


A Moment of Silence

by BlossomofFireandRain



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Depression, F/M, M/M, Masturbation, Solo, Tentabulges
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-02
Updated: 2013-04-02
Packaged: 2017-12-07 06:09:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/745177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlossomofFireandRain/pseuds/BlossomofFireandRain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sollux needs a moment of silence, and he knows how to get it.  It might take a little work getting there though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Moment of Silence

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I accidently did a thing, and after getting some help from a wonderful person, I decided to post it. (Thank them, not me, cause I probably wouldn’t have posted this except they liked it.)

You sigh as you push away from the computer. You’ve been there too long, you can feel it in your back, your hips, your neck, all telling you to “Stand up and move, fuckass,” instead of remaining there in a slump. 

The stick of your skin tells you the time you’d been there, and you are very deliberately not smelling yourself, knowing already what the results will be. Of course you’ll stink, but that won’t be the worst part. The voices are already pressing in, telling you how you’re scum, how you’re worse than dirt on the bottom of someone’s shoe, and you don’t need to give them more ammo. Doesn’t matter, they still take it and mutter about how you can’t even keep yourself clean. You’re happy that at least at this time you’re not hearing any voices you recognize, no screams of horror, or panicked mutters, but that doesn’t keep the voices of your own bisected thinkpan from grinding down on you until you’re face down on the desk. 

You’d started out working, making viruses to troll KK, but slowly it had dissolved down into failed project after failed project, only worked on for a bit before shoved aside and deemed worthless to continue. You could have tried trolling someone, but it’s already day, and you’re the only one left in the lab, even KK’s retreated into the dark halls. You’d feel more worried at the absence of certain trolls, but that would require energy. 

Now standing, you have a course, a plan of action. You don’t feel like eating. You actually feel like starving would be a deserved fate. But just for a little while you want to be unconscious, and you know the tight emptiness under your ribs will keep you from that, even though the only thing you’re going to eat is instant noodles.  
Unfortunately the only ones you have left are the kind you have to actually boil, although that may be a good thing. It keeps you actively involved with the food, not giving you a chance to slump over the table and ignore the microwave when it went off.

As you stand at the stove, waiting for the water to boil, the thought strikes you that anyone that might happen to see you at this moment wouldn’t be able to tell how loudly your thinkpan was screaming at you. Not one. You just stand there and stare at the pot, face blank, not really feeling the heat from the thermal hub as you watch it, almost too close to it.

The voices rise and fall like waves of doom, taking a little bit of you every time they do, making you aware that there is a time limit before you simply lay down on the floor and give up. Or worse. 

“Loser. Failure. Did you really tell KK you were the better coder? At least he didn’t kill his moirail. Who kills their diamond- Oh that’s right, you.” 

You realize you’re just kind of staring at the pot boiling, and hurry to pull the noodles off before they get too soggy. 

“You can’t even cook a real meal for yourself,” echoes in your head, making you choke a bit as you grab a pronged eating utensil and head towards your respite block.

You already know what you’re going to do after you eat. Not for any other reason but to make your head shut up for a bit, and finish the “Put Captor to bed, cause he can’t do so in a normal manner” plan. It’s not like you have the ability to feel any desire now anyway. But you can force one. Pail yourself so that for maybe a minute or so you feel _okay_ and alright enough to finally fall asleep. If you’re lucky it might break the mood swing enough to let you fall asleep feeling _good_ instead of just okay. 

You set the empty bowl aside, and shift against the wall of your block just enough to pull your pants off your ass. Enthusiasm is not a key trait in your actions, but oh, you’ll try. You _want_ to sleep today. 

Of course there’s no way your bulge is out, but that doesn’t stop you from easing your fingers over the edges of your sealed nook, pressing lightly, trying to entice your bulge out. When that doesn’t work, you straight up pull the edges apart enough to rub the opening of your sheath until your bulge decides to take a languid interest. This isn’t the time to draw it out however, so while one hand keeps your bulge busy, sliding your thumb over the tip of it, the other starts working at opening you up, and you _finally_ really start to feel something.

At this point the voices have receded some, just enough so you’d actually have to think to hear the muttering, and right now you just want to feel. 

Hands. 

You imagine hands. 

Hands of safe people. 

AA’s hands as she rubs your head, your back, during one of your migraines. It’s not like either of you ever had an issue with it, and while neither of you had gone all the way, rails who gave handjobs was apparently a thing that worked for you. Her’s were warm, short blunt nails and calloused from her digging in the dirt,and you thought of how they’d felt last time against your bulge, the sounds she’d made. It’d been safe at the time. Weirdly utterly pale, but still definitely pailing. 

Your fingers circle the edge of your nook, before sliding in, and in your mind you are already shifting to more hands. 

KK’s. Would he growl as he touched? Curse? Or would he be silent? You’d felt his too, being on this meteor. They were calloused too, but thicker, square-tipped and blunt.You quickly work another finger in, gasping as you think about it. Where would he hold you while he was in you? Would he cling to your hips, taking you as quickly as possible? Or would he touch your face? 

Your mind supplies phantom touches to the rest of you, allowing your hands to continue their work between your legs. You imitate claws against your skin as best you can and groan. You’re so close…. So very close….. 

FF’s hands…. Her’s are smoother, with soft pliable webbing that you’ll never admit to playing with. Cooler, less dry than yours, the shape of them somewhat dainty, in a vaguely dangerous way… You pull up the memory of them chill on your face, and make them continue down your chest. 

Something trickles down your hand, and you’re suddenly struck by the idea of one of them down there staring up at you. In your mind, you can’t decide which, and suddenly it’s all three, pressing against you, touching, someone’s urgent bulge questing along your hip, while the fingers in your nook belong to someone else, a mouth nipping at your ear, and with a tight high whine you feel yourself tip over, clenching around your fingers as your bulge shivers and writhes in your hand, smearing yellow _everywhere._

The quiet is astounding. Your head, completely empty, and for a second, you had felt surrounded by people who aren’t there, the wall behind your back just cool enough from your heat to be seadweller temperature. You stare at the pile around you. You’ll clean it up in the evening, right now your recuperacoon is calling you, and your head is silent, and it is time to _sleep._


End file.
